


Rous' Birthday Stories 2006

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, Other - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3767411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I would not mind a couple of stories to inspire me back to writing.  I like elves, but will read anything well written.  Any rating is acceptable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rous' Birthday Stories 2006

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

On the distaff the knot of storm-grey fibers thinned as on the spindle the skein of silky thread fattened. 

_The color of his eyes._

The slow rhythm of her hands and fingers, forming the fine strands, filled her days. 

_Too many days._

The change had crept up on her. 

_Too many years_. 

But not even a quarter of a _yéni_ had in truth passed. 

His heartbeat hovered at the horizon of her thought; she knew that the treacheries of mortality had not claimed him. 

_But yet he does not come_. _What changes have the years wrought? Has another won his love?_  

The leaves had gilded, fallen, bloomed again, and yet again. Still he did not come.

_Is this how it will be?_ she wondered. _Will that other part of my Elven blood count the days, the months, the year? Will I too change like the leaves in the seasons?_

Impossibly long ago, when they had met under the trees in Rivendell, she had refused him. He had sworn he would seek her again, would again ask for her love. Now she dreamed of him at night. Her laughter fell silent. 

Day after day, at the loom in her grandmother's workroom, she wove the thread she had spun, passing the shuttle back and forth, her feet pressing the peddles to shift the warp. The silver-grey cloth lengthened. Again the leaves turned gold, fell, bloomed. He had not come. 

A movement at the edge of her sight distracted her as the warden entered, seeking the Lady. "A Man is asking admittance to the Wood, my lady. He says he is lord of the Dúnedain, and he bears your brother's ring."

"He is a friend, warden. Bring him to me." __

Her blood surging, Arwen knew that nothing would ever again be the same.

 


End file.
